


Definitely Getting Used to This

by polishmyarmor



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, More comfort than hurt, shmoopy, some weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2806295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polishmyarmor/pseuds/polishmyarmor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diaz gets hurt in the line of duty and Santiago makes sure that she doesn't go back to work too soon. Cuddling and cheeseburgers!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Definitely Getting Used to This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [annemari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annemari/gifts).



“Drop the knife and put your hands above your head _now_ ” Diaz growled, her weapon aimed steadily at the dealer, who dropped the bloody knife and began looking frantically around for an escape.

“She said, put your hands above your head, dirtbag,” Santiago ordered, approaching the perp from behind with her gun also drawn. “You’ve got nowhere to go but jail.”

Santiago couldn’t help but look pleased with her tough talk, and as the man raised his hands over his head, Diaz began reciting his Miranda Rights. Santiago moved to cuff him, and once he was restrained, she turned to Diaz.

“You’re hurt!” she exclaimed.

“It’s nothing.” Diaz replied, hand pressed against her left shoulder.

“You’re bleeding!”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just…my jacket! This jerk ruined my favorite jacket…my only jacket!” Diaz got the same look on her face that she got when she destroyed things.

“It’ll be fine, I’ll fix it! Just, first, we need to get you to the hospital. Why don’t you sit down while we wait for the ambulance to come.” Amy made pacifying hand gestures and motioned Diaz to a nearby stoop. Two unis pulled up and quickly cleared away the drug dealer; sirens whirred in the distance from the approaching ambulance.

* * *

 

“What are you doing here?” Diaz growled, eyes narrowed as she stepped out of the hospital, precariously clutching her bag with a newspaper over her head to protect against the relentlessly drizzling rain.

“I’m here to make sure that you go home and get right into bed,” Santiago chirped. “Here, let me help you—“

“I’ve got it” Diaz insisted.

“Well, at least let me share my umbrella—how far is your place from here?” Santiago asked as she opened a large blue golf umbrella, easily covering them both.

“It’s just a few blocks. I’m fine.” Santiago started walking, and Diaz followed her.

“Sure, I’m sure you’re fine. I mean, you definitely get stabbed all the time, right? No! You’re not fine, you’ll be fine, I’m sure, but not yet, and in the meantime I’m going to walk you home.” Santiago easily kept pace with Diaz as they walked towards her apartment, the wind and rain picking up so that by the time they reached Diaz’s building they had to press close together under the umbrella to avoid the worst of the rain.

“Okay, I’m home, are you happy now? You can go home.”

“Nope!”

“What? Why? I’m home, what do you think’s going to happen, my toaster’s going to attack me?” Diaz muttered, annoyed, as she awkwardly rifled through her bag for her keys, wincing slightly as she tried not to move her hurt shoulder.

“Will you let me help you, please? Then we can get out of this rain and into your nice warm apartment.” Santiago began reaching for the bag.

“No,” Diaz replied, hunching protectively over her bag, and then quickly drawing in her breath as she felt her stitches strain. Santiago took that opportunity to snatch the bag away from her, quickly locating her keys, and opening the front door. She continued holding Diaz’s bag and keys as they made their way to her apartment. Once they reached Diaz’s third-floor walk-up, Santiago opened the door and walked in.

“By all means, come in.” Diaz drawled, frustrated.

“I will, thanks,” Santiago replied.

“Ugh! Why?!”

“Just because you refuse to ask for help doesn’t mean you don’t need it,” Santiago answered, warm brown eyes meeting Diaz’s.

Diaz sat bodily onto her sofa, banging her boots on top of the coffee table as she rested her legs on it, and sighed.

“Now, I’m going to run down to the pharmacy and fill your pain pills prescription, and—hey, while I’m out, why don’t I pick you up some soup? That will feel nice after the stabbing and the cold rain.” Santiago set Diaz’s bag down and began moving towards the door. “And I’m taking the keys, so don’t even think about locking me out.”

Santiago smiled to herself as she jingled the keys, spun on her heel, and left Diaz’s apartment.

Diaz sank further into the sofa.

* * *

 

“I’m back,” Santiago announced as she opened the door and re-entered the apartment. “I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for, soup-wise, so I brought you chicken soup, matzo ball soup, posole, and a cheeseburger, because I figured, what the heck?”

Santiago entered the living room, setting the bags of food on the coffee table next to Diaz’s feet and realized that Diaz hadn’t moved the entire time—hadn’t even bothered to turn the TV on—and was just sitting, staring fixedly at the wall.

“So…”Santiago began to feel nervous. She knew that Diaz would be fine, but she looked like she was actively at war with her own body, forcing it into stillness when it wanted to be up, out, punching things and arresting bad guys. “Um…”

“Cheeseburger.” Diaz ground out.

“Wha—oh! great! Here you go! That’s perfect, because you need to take the meds with food, so…”Santiago handed Diaz the cheeseburger and opened the posole for herself, digging a plastic spoon out of the bag.

Diaz began unwrapping the cheeseburger with one hand, placing the cheeseburger awkwardly in her lap as she gingerly pulled back each side of the wrapper.

“I can get that for you” Santiago said, setting the soup down and reaching over.

“No.” Diaz replied, stubbornly finishing the task on her own. Santiago sat down beside her on the sofa, taking care to sit on her right side, by her good shoulder. “Are you seriously going to sit here and watch me eat?”

“Yes, I am. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Obviously. I’m fine. I don’t understand why you insist on staying here. I’ll see you back at work tomorrow.”

“No! You won’t!” Santiago retorted “You’ve been _stabbed_ Rosa, _stabbed_. You need to rest and you need to heal. You aren’t going back to work tomorrow, and Holt agrees with me.”

“You talked to Holt about me?” Diaz’s cheeseburger sat in her lap as she turned to glare at Santiago. Their faces were inches apart.

“Of course I talked to Holt! One of his officers was stabbed in the line of duty and had to go to the hospital and get ten stitches in her shoulder and her best leather jacket is ruined and she would barely even accept help home!” Santiago’s anxiety over Diaz’s injuries rose to the surface along with her tears, brimming in her eyes as she returned Diaz’s glare full fold. “Do you think we’d just let you sit at home not able to move, but insisting on moving, and not healing and”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Diaz’s tone was softer now, and she looked at Santiago quizzically. “I just—I didn’t think that it would be you, doing all this.”

“Well, I mean…I just…I get it, okay? I mean, you’re so strong, and self-sufficient, but when you’re so self-sufficient, sometimes people forget that you still need help. And I know what that’s like—to need something and not ask for it but still want it desperately and—“

Santiago couldn’t think of another time when she’d talked this openly with someone while not totally saying what she meant. She saw Diaz’s shoulders relax as she spoke, and a certain understanding glimmer in her eyes.

“Okay, whatever, thank you, I’m glad you’re here,” Diaz muttered.

“Good. Thanks. Now eat your cheeseburger.”

* * *

 

It didn’t take long after Diaz finished her burger and took her meds for her to fall asleep, each deep breath dropping her head closer to Santiago until Diaz nestled comfortably on her shoulder. Santiago looked down at Diaz’s head and smiled, settling back into the couch.

After an hour or so she started to feel a chill and looked around for a blanket. She slowly moved to stand up, when Diaz’s hand gently grabbed Santiago’s wrist.

“You don’t have to go,” she mumbled sleepily.

“Shh, I’m not going anywhere, I’m just getting a blanket. I’ll be right back.” Santiago quickly grabbed the comforter off of Diaz’s bed and brought it back to the sofa, draping it gently over both of them as she sat down. “Go back to sleep,” she whispered, as Diaz’s slow, steady breathing became a comfortable rhythm over her heart.

* * *

 

As sunlight broke through the curtains, they both began to wake, stirring gently, each not wanting to wake the other, until they realized they were both awake.

“Good morning,” Diaz whispered, scratching her head absent-mindedly through her curls.

“Morning,” Santiago replied, smiling. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine,” Diaz replied automatically, and then continued, haltingly at first and then more confidently, “better than yesterday. Less like I just got stabbed. Thank you for bringing me food, and staying with me. I really…I really appreciate it. I think I might have drooled on your shirt.”

Diaz allowed herself a half-smile there, meeting Santiago’s eyes as they both stood.

“Haha, it’s no big deal,” Santiago replied, with a casual wave of her hand, “speaking of clothing—I can fix your jacket, if you like.”

“You can? I didn’t know you could sew.”

“Absolutely,” Santiago answered proudly. “And I mean, it’s such a great jacket on you, I mean, a great jacket in general, but on you, I mean—“

“Thanks,” Diaz replied. “So—“

“Right! My sewing kit. It’s at home.” Santiago began moving towards the door.

“Oh.” Diaz’s face fell. “I guess you have to get back to work anyway, so I can just—“

“Oh no you don’t!” Santiago replied hastily, “I’m not going to work today! I’m going to stay here with you, and make sure that you eat, and rest, and take your meds, and don’t suddenly think that you’re fit to come in to the precinct just because you didn’t get stabbed _today_. I’ll get my sewing kit, and then I’ll be right back. Start thinking now about what board games you want me to bring, and text me once you decide!”

Santiago turned and began walking closer to the door.

“Wait!” Diaz called, and began walking quickly towards Santiago, who turned around to face her. “I just—I’m—there’s no way I’m going to play board games but I still—thank you, again, for this. There’s no one else who would…”

“I’m sure there are plenty of people who would” Santiago replied, smiling.

“Right, ha” and with that, Diaz gave Santiago the warmest one-armed hug she’d ever had. “Just, thanks, okay?”

“Okay,” Santiago replied, her words spoken into Diaz’s hair as she smiled.

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you fixed it,” Diaz said, looking on in awe as Santiago held up her newly whole black leather jacket.

“Believe it!” Santiago said, pleased. She hung the jacket up in the closet and returned to the sofa next to Diaz. “I can’t believe that you love The Three Stooges.”

“Their violence soothes me,” Diaz replied, unconcernedly.

“Of course it does,” Santiago replied, wrapping her half of the blanket on the sofa around her. Diaz slowly began shifting her body closer to Santiago’s.

“Come on, get comfy,” Santiago said happily, her breath only slightly catching in her chest as Diaz moved to nestle her head on her shoulder once again.

“Is this weird?” Diaz asked bluntly.

“No—not at all. Is it weird that it’s not weird?”

“No—it’s nice.” Diaz looked up at Santiago, their faces inches apart. “I like that you’re here. I thought I would hate it, but I’m glad it’s you taking care of me. I don’t think I could have let anyone else stay and been fine—happy even.”

Santiago lit up at that, and she found her eyes moving from Diaz’s sincere eyes to her mouth and back again.

“Happy.” Santiago repeated, not entirely breathing.

“Yeah.” Diaz closed her eyes and gently moved closer, just barely pressing her lips against Santiago’s.

“Definitely happy,” Santiago whispered, and returned Diaz’s kiss. Diaz pulled back momentarily and smiled, the widest, happiest smile. Santiago smiled too, eyes closed, and moved to kiss Diaz again. Their teeth gently knocked together, and Santiago’s eyes opened. “Wow! That smile! You’re smiling _so much_ right now!”

“I’m happy, okay. Get used to it,” Diaz growled softly, and pulled Santiago in for another kiss.

“I“ kiss “intend” kiss “to,” Santiago replied, thinking that she’d never thought a stabbing could end so happily. “Definitely.”


End file.
